All Her Fears
It's a calm, clear night in Translucentia Heights, the rich sector of the city-state of Iacon. Here, most of the more powerful politicians, famous celebrities, and prestigious scholars have their preferred residences. It's beautiful, and in and of itself, it's practically a utopia. So it comes as no surprise that Blurr has one of his favorite hab suites near the top floor of one of the residence complexes, the one with the -best- view of the city, of course. This particular cycle, he's relaxing in front of a huge videopane currently displaying some sort of song and dance form of entertainment, and alongside him are two femmes, both of whom are -almost- as attractive as he is. Almost. Well in his honest opinion, anyway. A drone is pouring the drinks of choice for the three of them. Has Feint gotten used to good fuel yet? Well maybe Wind Dancer can help if not. Feint is still getting used to -everything-. She's comfortable enough sitting next to Blurr, because, to be frank, she views him as a savior. Like a nervous new puppy, she keeps close to make sure that when he leaves the house he doesn't forget she exists and never come back!! She probably waits near the door to some degree, too, simply because she doesn't know how to handle a life of ease. Things were simpler back in the mines, where she would be ordered and directed on how to spend her every waking second. The calm of the evening is about to be broken, as far outside, a doormech is rendered unconscious, and his exact duplicate wanders into the habitation tower. On Blurr's is Wind Dancer. The fact that she lazes about as if she owns the place, which isn't at all true, should come as no surprise. Her general attitude suggests she thinks she owns everything. It's a confidence thing. She's got it spades. For now, she's content to watch the videopane and let the drone do its job. Is she spoiled? Absolutely. Does she have a right to be? That's a matter of opinion really. If one were to ask here, she's bloody well earned it. Blurr doesn't mind the arrogance and confidence. He's the same way, after all. Right now, this place is as much hers as it is his, anyway. The drone finishes pouring the drinks, and serves them up. The racer glances over at Feint, who still looks slightly nervous as she always does. "Feint you really need to learn to loosen up." he laughs and gestures toward Wind Dancer. "Just look at her. -That's- how a fembot like you should act. Sitting around, like you own the place because you practically do anyway. Trust me you'll get a lot more out of life if you just stop worrying about me disappearing and never coming back or forgetting about you or turning you in somewhere or something. 'Cuz it's never gonna happen." "I can't stop. What if Solvent is still looking for me? He owns me, after all." Feint quietly worries. She's actually using her voice more, instead of projecting her thoughts and intentions into the minds of others - it's taking practice, but she's getting there. "I mean, all it will take is a knock on the door to get you in trouble and--" Knock-knock-knock. As she's motioned to, Windy gives a bit of a smirk and a wink. "The more nervous you act, the more you're going to draw attention. Makes it seem like you have something to hide." Her drink is taken and held for now. The knock at the door has her head tilting off to one side. "Interesting timing, that." A look is cast at Blurr. "Nope!" Blurr shakes his head. "He doesn't own you, -no one- owns you. Right Windy? See, exactly, looking like that makes you even more suspicious, you've got to keep yourself calm and collected." he nods at the other fembot. "No one owns you but yourself now. And even if I get in trouble--" And there it is. Interesting timing, indeed. "Now Feint, don't panic. This one was expected." Kind of. He'd been told someone had somehow stolen the access codes to one of his personal vaults, and that someone was going to try to convince him to let her in and let her wander around freely so she could steal a rare substance from that vault. He hadn't been sure when she would come, but he knew she was going to come at some point soon. He looks at the both of them. "Don't panic." he repeats, and moves to the door to open it. Feint just sort of huddles in her seat, hugging her knees to her chest. The air around her distorts for a nano-klik, swirling with darker colors out of the corner of the optic. A closer look, though, and it's gone as fast as it came, like flux in the sensors. Standing at the door is a mostly black femme with tawny gold accents atop bits of lime green. Magenta 'goggles' cover her optics. "Hey there, tigertron," she purrs at Blurr in an easy greeting. "Got room for one more?" "Me? Panic? Psh." There's a roll of eyes and, if possible, Windy seems to relax further. It's as if she's allowing the furniture to have the honor of supporting her. The swirl of color isn't missed but for now it's not commented on either. That's purr, however, gets a snort of amusement from her. One can almost hear the thought of 'tigertron? Really?' Blurr considers her a moment, then smirks. "I always have room for one more." He gestures toward the seating area where Feint and Wind Dancer are. "You want a drink, or what?" he nods toward the 'bartender' drone. "Feint, this is Shiftlock, and I think you've met Wind Dancer." "I have?" Shiftlock asks, puzzled, peering in around Blurr at the other fembots. This isn't meant as an insult to Wind Dancer - Shift really *doesn't* remember her. Because shenanigans. She walks into the area, and looks around. "Nice spread. Which Senator did you flirt with to get it?" the black speeder quips, thoroughly amused. "Not that I dn't appreciate a drink but I'm here on business. Remember when I met you at the Speedway? It's about that little conversation we had." Feint looks over the back of the couch, kind of hiding behind it. Stranger Danger. "Hi," she meekly offers. "I think so." Blurr shrugs. "Well maybe that wasn't you." Really, he meets so many different people all the time. He chuckles at the flirting comment. "Trust me, I don't need to flirt with anyone to get this stuff. I just do what I was made to do." That is, race. He gives Feint a bit of an exasperated look. "Oh come on, don't be shy." But then Shiftlock cuts straight to business. She must be in a hurry. It was somewhat of a good idea, to act like they'd had some kind of previous agreement. So he plays along with it just for a little bit. "Oh, right...that -little- conversation." he stands up and moves away from the sitting room, toward the back of the hab suite. "Excuse us for a moment. Private business, and stuff." Feint can't help but stay hidden behind the couch. There's something wrong about Shiftlock; she's too... watery. She doesn't -feel- right to Feint, and as such the little fembot's hackles are already up. Almost literally; her wings are raised over her shoulders. "Huh. I didn't know you had servants in here, Blurr," Shiftlock comments aloud, making conversation, unaware of what's about to happen. "That come with the trophies, too?" Blurr shakes his head. "No, actually she isn't a servant. She's a friend." He says firmly. Feint may have had reason to worry about Blurr, too. He seems fine but, there's something that doesn't seem quite right about him--her empathic senses would have told her so. A few more seconds pass as he escorts her down a hallway toward the rear of the suite where the vault was. Suddenly, he stops, and turns to face her directly. "Unlike you." Some sort of stun weapon is drawn from a compartment and fired straight at an unsuspecting Shiftlock. Feint screams in alarm; all her fears are crashing in on her. As Shiftlock falters, a shocked look on her face as she tries to look at herself to find out where and what she's been shot with, Feint's panic washes out in a concussive wave, screaming in Blurr's head, STOP. Shiftlock winces, discerning nothing but pain as she sinks to her knees. "... th'... slag?" Blurr grimaces slightly, straining to block out Feint's screams and waves of panic. He knew she wouldn't take this well...and he'd considered trying to explain it to her beforehand, but...he wasn't sure he could make her understand. "The slag what? You thought you could trick me by acting like we'd had some kind of previous deal, huh?" He drives a knee into her back to pin her down, pulling out a short rod-shaped device with four distinct needles sticking out of one end of it. In fact, he doesn't realize it, but it's the same device his handlers had used on him just megacycles earlier. "You're smart, I'll give you that. But unfortunately for you, you seem to be convinced that you can get yourself out of anything." "Too bad you won't get to learn anything from this." And down the device goes, the needles boring into the back of Shiftlock's neck. Like mnemosurgery, only extremely painful. And less precise, but it'll have to do. The Senate won't want to lose their Shifter. "w-what are you doing?" Shiftlock gasps just before Blurr knocks her to the ground, pinning her. "I came to you f-for help! Don't you remember anything I showed--!" She yelps as the needles are jabbed into her mesh, opening older pinholes from previous surgeries. It's messy and imprecise. Punctured energon lines beneath the surface soon weep glowing liquid from around the mnemonic spikes. Feint doesn't understand what is going on and is torn between Blurr and his unfortunate 'guest'. "What are you doing?!" she demands of Blurr. "You're hurting her! Why are you doing that?! You don't -- you can't be like that!" She creeps off the couch and begins backing away from the scene, looking between both parties, trying to figure out what to do next. Once the job has been done, Blurr puts the device and the stun weapon away, and tells Wind Dancer to drag Shiftlock outside and leave her on the street. He sighs at Feint. "Look, I'm sorry you had to see that, but it was necessary. She stole the access codes to my vault somehow, and was trying to get her hands on some rare element. She'll be fine, okay? She'll wake up later, and be fine." "Stole? But why would a thief come into an occupied home? Why would she say that she came to you for help? None of that makes sense!" Feint protests. "She didn't do anything to you and you attacked her!" "... and there's nothing to stop you from doing that to me either." Shiftlock is far too dazed to do anything to resist being moved, and therefore - she is. "She was trying to trick me," Blurr shakes his head. "By pretending that we had some kind of previous agreement, alright? Why would a thief come into an occupied hab suite, well isn't that the ultimate question--that's just it, isn't it? No one would suspect that she was up to anything if she just came and knocked on the door, right? You see what I'm saying? Look, stop worrying so much, I told you. I'm not going to attack you, in fact, I never would have caused her any major injury. Like I said she'll be fine." "You haven't been right since you came home last. You don't... you don't -feel- the same," Feint points out. "And... I asked for your help before. She just did, too." "You're going to just leave her out on the street. Then what happens to her?" the smaller fembot questions. "What do you mean I don't feel the same? You don't get to tell me how I feel!" Blurr protests, shaking a finger at her. "I just told you, she was lying! Trying to trick me!" he groans. "She'll be fine, like I said a million times over. She can fend for herself. She'll wake up later and go back to her job and her life like normal. Just...good Primus, stop worrying. You're driving me insane!" He makes an exasperated noise and storms off to his private quarters, leaving her alone in the sitting room with the entertainment programming still on the videopane.